


One Big Love

by fimbrethiel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbrethiel/pseuds/fimbrethiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isildur’s Bane is found and the Nazgûl are hot on Frodo’s trail.  Glorfindel is sent into the wilds to save him… but first, Erestor has a few things to say.  Glorfindel hears him out, then has a few words of his own.</p><p>Writen for the Queen Fluffbunny herself, Aglarien, in the ‘Ardor in August’ fiction exchange sponsored by http://www.geocities.com/slashysanta/.  *squishes Agie*  The title is borrowed from the Emmylou Harris cover of Patty Griffin’s song ‘One Big Love,’ a silly, happy little ditty that always makes me smile.  We all need One Big Love in our lives.</p><p>Request:  R or NC-17 preferably, Erestor with either Glorfindel, Elrond, or Melpomaen.  3rd Age Imladris.  A light, fluffy, and romantic story with a happy ending.  Can be first time or established relationship, but the Elves should be in a committed relationship with each other or heading there.  Include a rose, Elrond's Library, and a lost shoe  (evil grin).  Do not include weak or wimpy Elves, blood, rape, incest, non-consensual sex or promiscuity.  No angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Big Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aglarien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/gifts).



> Beta: The amazing and multi-talented minuial_nuwing *smooches*
> 
> Original date of completion: August 16, 2008

~*~*~*~*~  
  
To say that the room in the Last Homely House designated as ‘Elrond’s Library’ truly belonged to Master Elrond was a bit of a fallacy.  The vast collection of volumes and the room that housed them were, and always had been, referred to as just that – Elrond’s library –  but the room and the volumes contained therein were always available, day or night, for all of Imladris to use and enjoy.  
  
Erestor and Glorfindel, both confirmed lovers of books, as well as friends and associates of an Age’s duration, frequently met there in the evenings.  Over the years, they had staked their claim on a cozy little nook with a view of both the doorway and stacks, so situated as to best keep their collective eye on the comings and goings of the patrons.  ‘Their’ place was furnished with a matched set of overstuffed armchairs and a small tea table, and lighted by a pleasing array of oil sconces hung on the wall.  In those comfortable, slightly shabby chairs, they would sit quietly and companionably, each reading to suit his individual interests and tastes.  
  
On this particular night, Glorfindel lazed in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, a fine cut crystal tumbler half-filled with brandy on the little table beside him.  In his strong, sinewy hand he held a slim volume of poetry, which looked curiously fragile in that formidable paw.  He looked, to Erestor’s shrewd eye, the very image of contentment.  
  
Erestor, on the other hand, did not feel nearly so content as Glorfindel appeared to be.  His own chair was slanted at an angle to Glorfindel’s, a virtually forgotten full goblet of white wine keeping the brandy company.  In his lap was an ancient journal, its pages spread open to a passage that he realized only belatedly that he had read four times over, and still had no idea what it said.  
  
How could Glorfindel sit there, the picture of ease, while Erestor felt like the world was crashing down around his ears?  
  
He slammed his book shut and nearly vaulted from his chair, all without consciously thinking about it.  The sound was a thunderclap in the otherwise quiet room, and Glorfindel, startled out of his reading, looked up at him inquiringly.  
  
“He was deluded,” Erestor retorted, with a vicious stab of his forefinger at the cover of the journal.  “This is not the way it happened.”  
  
To his own ears, his voice sounded far more gruff than usual, and before Glorfindel could question him further, he had tucked the book under the crook of his arm and beat a hasty retreat between two of the stacks.  
  
In the aisle and safely out of Glorfindel’s sight, Erestor shoved the book on a shelf at random and leaned his forehead against it, feeling like all the breath had been squeezed out of his lungs.  His eyes clenched shut, he took a deep breath that came out sounding more like a strangled sob, and roundly but silently cursed Gildor Inglorion’s messenger for being the bearer of ill tidings.  
  
If the Baggins lost in the wild was anything like his kinsman Bilbo, there was little hope he and his companions would reach Imladris alive, even guided by Aragorn and his extraordinary skills.  These Hobbits were too soft, too simple, too innocent, too gentle of nature to survive.  If there was to be any chance at all for the Dúnadan to lead them to the relative safety of the Bruinen and beyond to the Last Homely House, there was no choice but to send a party to search for them.  
  
And Glorfindel – merry, brave, honorable Glorfindel – would be leaving with dawn’s first light to aid in their rescue.  
  
Rationally, Erestor knew that there were few in Middle-earth with the power to ride openly against the servants of Sauron, and of these, Glorfindel was arguably the most formidable.  In fact, Erestor himself had counseled Elrond in whom to dispatch, with Glorfindel’s name at the top of the short list.  The Nine feared the venerable Elvenlord, with just cause.  
  
But one question kept repeating itself in Erestor’s mind.  
  
 _What if Glorfindel does not return?_  
  
Erestor’s reaction to that possibility was visceral; his knees went weak, his stomach lurched, his vision swam queasily until he feared he might be sick.  
  
He had kept his emotions in check through the meetings, all through dinner, and thus far this evening.  Yet, as the hours passed and the time grew perilously near when Glorfindel would yawn, re-shelf his book, and bid Erestor a good night and pleasant dreams, the reality that Glorfindel was actually leaving was becoming more difficult to bear.  
  
Erestor worried for the others, of course, but they – they were not Glorfindel.  
  
He loved Glorfindel.  
  
He’d loved Glorfindel as long as he could remember, since the day a world-weary and foot-sore refugee from battles and tragedies uncounted had tired of his wanderings and made his way to Imladris, where he was immediately befriended by Glorfindel.  
  
Tall, noble Glorfindel, with the light of Aman still shining in his eyes.  
  
Erestor loved Glorfindel, as surely as the Eldar loved Elbereth.  
  
And the tragedy was, Glorfindel might never find out.  
  
“Erestor?  Are you all right?”  Glorfindel’s voice, rich and smooth as honey, queried from the end of the aisle.  
  
Erestor looked up guiltily, his eyes stinging, to see Glorfindel standing hesitantly, one finger tucked between the pages of the book still in his hand, unsure whether to approach or leave him alone.  
  
Damn.  Glorfindel must have heard him.  Now what was he supposed to do?    
  
“Yes, yes, everything is fine, thank you,” he replied a bit too quickly, forcing his voice to suppress a quaver.  
  
 _Liar,_  his conscience scoffed.   _Tell him!  If something goes awry and he does not return, if he is taken, or- - no, do not even think it - - he will never know, and you will never forgive yourself for missing your chance.  You should have told him years ago._  
  
Glorfindel continued to watch him doubtfully, those expressive blue eyes wide with concern.  
  
His conscious was a screeching shrew in the forefront of his mind, prodding him with her jagged talons.   _Now, now, Erestor!  Before he leaves!_    
  
It was too much to hope that Glorfindel might feel the same, could  _ever_  feel that way for him, but the very idea that Glorfindel might never know how Erestor felt about him made him want to weep.  This might be his last chance, and curse him for a fool for not speaking up sooner.  
  
“Come here,” he finally blurted.  Perhaps not the most eloquent or polite of requests, but alas, the seconds were ticking by.  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  One golden eyebrow rose skyward, tugging the corner of Glorfindel’s mouth with it.  Clearly, this was not what he had expected to hear.  
  
Erestor cleared his throat.  “There is something I need to say, and I cannot do it properly while you are standing over there.”  
  
Both sides of Glorfindel’s lips turned into a full-fledged smile, but his eyes – those amazing, startlingly blue eyes - crinkled in confusion.  With agonizing slowness, with apparently no idea of the tenterhooks he was leaving Erestor on, he laid his book of poetry precisely on the shelf and walked toward Erestor.  
  
Watching this seemingly deliberately slow performance, Erestor nearly lost his nerve.  
  
Glorfindel finally stood in front of him, that same quizzical smile on his face.  “Yes?”  
  
Valar, this was more difficult than Erestor had ever imagined, with Glorfindel looking at him so trustingly, never suspecting that in the next few moments, at least one of their lives was about change.  He had fantasized that one day, if he ever worked up the nerve, he would ask Glorfindel’s leave to court him, and then do it the old fashioned way, and give him flowers and gifts, with walks under the moonlight and dancing under the stars, and hot cocoa on a cold winter’s night, and sweet, stolen kisses before breakfast.  Not profess his love standing in a library, with his heart pounding so hard it was practically audible in the next room.  
  
“There is something I need to say before you leave tomorrow,” he finally said again, not knowing how else to begin.  A speech like this was not the sort of thing one could actually practice, unlike appealing to a political committee or lecturing a room full of junior advisors.  
  
“So that is what this is about?”  
  
Erestor swallowed hard.  “If you do not return – “  
  
“Erestor, the Nine were only Men once,” Glorfindel interrupted kindly.  “Evil Men in thrall to their Master, but only Men, still.”  
  
Erestor raise an eyebrow.  “But their blades are steel.”  
  
Glorfindel had the grace to blush.  “Ah… yes.  Point taken.”  
  
Once the metaphorical door was open, Erestor’s words rushed out, the articulacy that served him so well in Council chambers deserting him.  “I would never be able to face myself in the mirror again if I did not tell you, if you went out there tomorrow and did not return.  I just – wanted to tell you that I – it seems that I love you,” he finished lamely.  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
Glorfindel’s expression reflected not a flicker of emotion.  He was quiet, distressingly so, his eyes unreadable, reflecting none of his inner feelings.  Erestor’s heart sunk.  He had expected at least some reaction, and this oddly unemotive Glorfindel was troubling.  
  
Before Erestor quite knew how it happened, he was spun around and pushed into the stacks, with the corners of books and ledgers digging into his spine.  He yelped in alarm as the shelving teetered precariously, and for one moment he feared the heavy cases would fall, burying Glorfindel and him under an avalanche of the accumulation of millennia of history.  He was not frightened, really, only surprised.  Glorfindel was a gentle soul.  
  
“Well, Chief Counselor Erestor, this is a rather unexpected situation,” Glorfindel drawled, effectively immobilizing Erestor by pinning his arms against the shelves, “and I admit, one that does not displease me.”  
  
“Excuse me, Lord Erestor?  Lord Glorfindel?  Is everything all right?”  
  
Erestor glanced in mortification at the young library assistant who had rounded the corner at just that moment, no doubt curious about the raised voices and the wobbling shelves, but Glorfindel’s gaze never wavered.  Barely tilting his head toward the intruder, his eyes never leaving Erestor’s, he said calmly, almost conversationally, “Yes, now get out.”  
  
“Yes, my Lord.”  The young Elf  _got_ , quickly.  
  
“Now, as I was saying before that untimely interruption,” Glorfindel continued easily, “did you really believe I came to the library every evening just to read poetry and drink Elrond’s brandy?  Why I came here  _tonight_ , especially, when I should be in my room, preparing for tomorrow?”  
  
“Yes – I mean to say, I assumed you enjoyed it,” Erestor stammered.  The situation had changed so rapidly that Erestor was still trying to work out why  _he_  was the one with his literal back to the wall.  Where was Glorfindel going with this?  
  
“Wrong,” Glorfindel countered in an entirely reasonable and casual tone, as though they had been just discussing whether there would be rain tomorrow.  
  
“Ah – “  
  
Erestor made a small sound of confusion.  He had no idea what was going on and where this discussion, if one could properly call it that, was headed.  
  
“I come here just to sit with you, talk with you, and watch you as you read.  The irony is that I do not even  _like_  poetry, and I prefer ale to brandy, but I like watching you.  Did you know you have a truly delightful habit of tugging on your ear when you are concentrating?”  
  
“I – “  
  
“I confess, Erestor, you have just saved me a great deal of worry, and a great many sleepless nights.”  
  
“What – “  
  
Glorfindel shook his head and silenced Erestor with a finger across his lips.  “Manwë’s balls, Erestor, I have never seen you so tongue tied!  I am tired of the coy eye games we play, where you watch me and I watch you, but neither of us has the courage to admit what we really want.  It ends tonight, Erestor.  It ends  _now_.”  
  
Now Erestor was entirely turned around.  He had intended to make his little speech, most likely be met with incredulity, skepticism, or at the very least, a polity couched refusal, then flee to the safety of his chambers to wait for the morning.   
  
“I’m sorry, Glorfindel, but I really do not understand.”  
  
“Then let me say this as plain as I can.  I love you, Counselor.”  
  
Erestor shook his head.  He must not have heard correctly, for he could have sworn Glorfindel had said –  
  
Glorfindel leaned so close that his breath rustled Erestor’s hair.  “I see the doubt in your eyes, Erestor, but believe me, it is true.  I.  Love.  You.”  
  
A great weight lifted from Erestor’s shoulders and he slumped against Glorfindel’s chest, leaning into the reassuring strength of his arms.  For the first time, he was confident Glorfindel would be back, unscathed, and was hopeful about the future.  One moment he had despaired of ever seeing Glorfindel again, and the next – oh gods.  
  
 _Glorfindel loved him._  
  
“I don’t know what to say, Glorfindel.”  
  
“Tell me again that you love me, and then tell me I can kiss you.”  
  
“I love you – “  
  
He never made it to the “now kiss me” part.  Any further conversation was forestalled by Glorfindel’s tongue in his mouth.  
  
That brandy-flavored kiss surpassed any that Erestor had ever imagined.  It was not a particularly elegant kiss, with mouths open wide and teeth clanking together and wetter than he normally cared for.  It was aggressive and demanding, but despite its flaws, it was utter perfection.  When it was over, his legs were limp and another part of his anatomy was stirring to life.  
  
Pulling away, Glorfindel rested their foreheads together, his breath coming in deep rasps.  “If this continues, there  _will_  be consequences.”  
  
Erestor swallowed hard, his voice a mere whisper.  “What sort of consequences?”  
  
“You will find yourself thrown over my shoulder and carried to my bed.”  
  
Erestor snorted.  “You are joking.  You wouldn’t dare carry me.”  
  
Glorfindel leaned even closer, until Erestor could feel the heat of his body, and caught his hand.  He pulled it down to rest squarely on his crotch, so Erestor could feel the rigid length underneath the fabric, hot and pulsing like a living beast.  “Does that feel like I am joking?”  
  
No, that was definitely not a joke.  
  
“We can wait, Glorfindel.  There is no pressure to do this tonight – it was never my intention to rush you.”  Erestor could not believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth.  
  
“You would send me away with only a kiss?  I want you  _now_.”  
  
“Then kiss me again.”  
  
Glorfindel did, and it was even better than the first.  
  
The next thing Erestor knew, he had been tossed unceremoniously over Glorfindel’s shoulder.  He was of a height with Glorfindel, slightly leaner but no less strong, yet Glorfindel had hefted him as though he weighed no more than a child.  
  
His howl of indignity netted him a sharp slap on the behind.  “I warned you.”  
                             
“But - I did not think you were  _serious_!” he spluttered.  Oh, the tongues that would wag if anyone were to see Elrond’s efficient right hand tossed over Glorfindel’s shoulder as carelessly as a sack of laundry!  
  
He kicked and flailed his feet trying to escape, pounding ineffectually on the backs of Glorfindel’s thighs.  “That kiss meant  _yes_ , you cretin; there is no need for this!   _Please_ , Glorfindel, put me down!  There are people around!”  
  
His hope for another reaction was dashed.  Glorfindel’s only response besides to keep walking was to give a deep rumbling chuckle that Erestor could feel vibrating all the way from Glorfindel’s shoulder straight up through to Erestor’s stomach, and to the area directly below –  _above_ , that was, given his upside down position.  
  
He felt the soft leather ties of his slippers loosen, and another mighty kick sent the right one clear off his foot and sailing somewhere down one of the aisles.  “My shoe!” he cried, renewing his struggles.  “Get my shoe!”  
  
Predictably, Glorfindel ignored him.  
  
A gasp from somewhere near door made Erestor crane his neck, and he realized with horror that he and Glorfindel were not alone in the library, after all.  The young Elf Glorfindel had sent away earlier was hovering near the corner, a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with a mix of worry and amusement.  
  
From his position over Glorfindel’s shoulder, his own hair falling into his face, Erestor hissed with as much dignity as he could muster, considering the blood was rushing to his head and his ass was in the air, a mere twelve inches or so from Glorfindel’s face, “If  _one single word_  of what you have seen here passes your lips –  _ever_  – I will flay every inch of skin from your miserable body with a dull dinner knife.”  
  
The Elf backed away, his eyes still wide, but Erestor noticed that the corner of his lip was twitching.  Erestor glared, and the twitching stopped, but the moment Glorfindel had swept him around the corner and out into the hall, a hastily stifled chortle followed them.  So much for subtlety.  Erestor had no doubt that word of his predicament would be the news of the week, even before morning bells.  
  
“I will beat him,” Erestor muttered, but despite his undignified position, a wry smile crossed his face.  It just figured that his fantasies of finding love and romance with Glorfindel would begin in such an ignominious manner.  
  
He had no choice but to hang passively over Glorfindel’s shoulder.  The strong hand that rubbed and kneaded his bottom in an altogether pleasing and arousing manner may have had something to do with his resignation, but there was no way he was going to get free, anyway, so he may as well concede the point that Glorfindel was not going to allow him the dignity of walking.  
  
Besides, the view of Glorfindel’s bottom was spectacular.  
  
They stopped in front of Glorfindel’s door (he recognized the carvings, even hanging upside down), and the steadying hand on his bottom disappeared, then his hair brushed the threshold as Glorfindel stepped in and closed the door behind him.  
  
He had been in the sitting room of Glorfindel’s suite a number of times before, to play chess or music or simply to chat, and the weave of tapestries covering the floor was familiar, as were the extravagantly plush loveseat and low-slung chairs, the desk in the corner, and the lower shelves of numerous bookshelves laden with volumes of nearly all varieties… except poetry.  How had he never noticed that?  
  
Another pause and a second door opened, and the tapestries on the floor here were unfamiliar.  He saw the bottom portion of a pale oak wardrobe and bureau, and then his stomach did a lurch as he was tossed onto his back on a high, soft mattress.  
  
He opened his mouth to tease Glorfindel about his haste to finally get him into bed, but the words stuck in his throat.  Craning his neck to get a better look around, he was struck speechless for one of the few times in his life.  
  
The blonde oak headboard and posters of Glorfindel’s enormous four-poster bed were carved with a riot of roses in all stages of bloom, from tiny buds to lush, double-blossomed giants, their vines an intricate tangle of leaves and slender, graceful stems.  
  
The effect was such that Erestor had the dizzying impression of lying under a honey-colored arbor.  He rolled onto his stomach to get a better look, only distantly registering the dip in the mattress as Glorfindel settled next to him.  On inspection, one of the posts revealed a swath of a foot or so of bare wood, and Erestor realized with something close to awe that Glorfindel had created each these delicate blooms with his own hands.  
  
He finally found his voice and turned toward Glorfindel.  “This is  _incredible_.”  
  
From within the folds of Glorfindel’s shirt came the flash of one blue eye and a grunt of frustration.  He finally struggled free and tossed the shirt over a chair.  He simply shrugged.  “I like roses.”  
  
“Glorfindel?”  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
And Glorfindel did, with great enthusiasm and just the right amount of tongue, and this kiss was even better than the first two.  Glorfindel did not stop kissing him until he was lightheaded and breathless.  He was pressed flat against the bedding, pinned by Glorfindel’s legs entwined with his, and Glorfindel’s hand easily found the front of his trousers, his agile fingers curling around the swell he found there.  
  
Erestor’s eyes rolled back in his head, a wordless whimper escaping his throat.  
  
“Last chance.  Yes or no?”  Glorfindel’s hand moved slowly up and down, up and down.  
  
Erestor’s body reacted, any thought or reason driven away by the deliciously lazy pace of those long, strong fingers.  “ _Yes_.”  
  
He lay obediently still as Glorfindel slowly undressed him and then knelt to peel off his own leather breeches.   
  
“How do you want to do this?” he murmured against Glorfindel’s lips, as they lay together kissing.  Glorfindel could do things with his tongue that Erestor had never dreamed of.  
  
He felt Glorfindel’s mouth quirk into a smile.  “The usual way, I expect.”  
  
“I mean, which do you prefer; sunny side up or over easy?”  
  
“Oh, is it breakfast already?”  
  
Erestor stifled a laugh.  “Be serious.”  
  
“The bottom, usually, but as I will be riding a horse tomorrow, and you will be riding a desk…  “  
  
“You want to ride  _me_ , then.”  
  
A chuckle.  “Your power of deduction is astounding, Counselor.”  
  
Glorfindel was already magnificently erect, and Erestor breathed a silent sigh of relief that he did not seem to want to waste much time on foreplay.  As far as Erestor was concerned, the past few thousand years of unrequited love was foreplay enough, thank you.  
  
From somewhere in a drawer, a small bottle of lotion was produced; Erestor suspected Glorfindel had never used it for the type of activity they were about to engage in.  Probably to moisturize his hands, or tame his hair, or even when pleasuring himself, the thought of which gave Erestor a little tingle in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Glorfindel’s fingers probed gently at his entrance, and his stomach fluttered in anticipation.  His legs were gathered, pushed back toward his chest.  
  
“Not too fast,” he warned, as he felt the blunt head of Glorfindel’s shaft nudged his entrance and spread him open.  “It has been a very long time.”  
  
“Even longer for me,” Glorfindel whispered, and slowly forced his way into Erestor’s welcoming body.  
  
Erestor felt a guilty rush of triumph to hear his suspicion confirmed.  
  
His brow creased in concentration, Glorfindel pressed in a tiny bit at a time, until his hips cradled Erestor’s buttocks.  Once, Erestor whimpered, hating the pathetic sound that had escaped his throat, but damn it, it  _hurt_.  
  
Glorfindel muffled his faint sounds of pain with a kiss, until the discomfort passed.  The burn was uncomfortable but bearable, and Glorfindel’s length inside him was gratifyingly and recklessly satisfying.  
  
Glorfindel finally looked down at him, his expression one of mixed humor and passion, his eyes lust-darkened to the color of polished slate, and brushed Erestor’s lips with a light kiss.  “Oh, sweet one, I  _know_  how long it has been for you.  I remembered.  Three hundred years ago, give or take, at the Midsummer celebration, with that envoy from Dol Amroth.”  
  
The memory of that long-ago, wine-fueled night of abandon made Erestor flush brightly.  That liaison had been a one-time affair, physically satisfying but little more.  He was embarrassed later by how deliberately he had used his lover, simply because in the Man’s eyes he saw the covetous look that he despaired ever seeing from Glorfindel.  The noble from Dol Amroth had wanted him, and Glorfindel had not.    
  
“I regretted it in the morning,” he said, averting his eyes.    
  
“Of all the Elves there, you chose a Man?   _Why_?”  
  
Erestor’s answer was raw and honest.  “I was lonely, and he was as unlike you as I could find.  How in the world could you remember that, after all this time?”    
  
Glorfindel began to move above him, unhurriedly, loosening him, and the discomfort slowly turned to warmth and pleasure.  He smiled, but it was tinged with regret. “Because  _I_  wanted to be with you that night, but I thought you would turn me down.”    
  
“You loved me even then?” Erestor asked incredulously, craning his neck to meet Glorfindel’s eyes.  
  
Glorfindel nodded.  “Even then.”  
  
The absurdity of their situation finally hit Erestor with full force.  His lip twitched, then a bright bubble of laughter welled in his chest and burst from his mouth.  He laughed and laughed until tears came to his eyes.  Vaguely he was aware of Glorfindel looking at him strangely, surely suspecting he had utterly gone around the bend, but he was helpless to stop it.  
  
“Ah, such happy fools we are,” he wheezed between breaths.  “All those years wasted, pining for one another, and neither of us had any idea!”  
  
It was only when the fit of hilarity had begun to taper off into hitching chuckles that he realized Glorfindel had tensed above him, motionless, his face contorted in a grimace.  
  
“Glorfindel?   _Glorfindel_ , are you all right?” he asked anxiously.  
  
As Glorfindel’s mouth opened and a tiny gasp escaped, and he convulsed, Erestor understood.  Two heartbeats later, a gush of slippery heat flooded his bowels.  
  
Glorfindel slumped over him, his eyes gone soft and cloudy, his lids heavy and satiated with spent passion.  
  
“So pleased to see I amused you,” he said finally, offering a tired, but slightly sheepish smile.  “Sorry.  I tried to hold out, but you have admirable muscle tone.”  
  
Chuckling, Erestor brushed a tawny lock of hair away from Glorfindel’s sweaty face, tucking it neatly behind one ear.  “It’s fine, really.  I am the one who should apologize – the irony struck me at an unfortunate time.”  
  
“Don’t apologize, Erestor.  If there is one thing I have learned through the years, it is that laughter never comes at the wrong time.”  
  
Erestor reflected on this a moment, then smiled.  “A healthy philosophy to have.”  
  
“Yes, it been useful.  Here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit, shall we?”  
  
Erestor winced as Glorfindel’s sated length slid from his body and waited, feeling a bit silly with his own unabated erection poking cheerfully at the ceiling, while Glorfindel reached between his thighs and gently wiped his backside with the sleeve of his discarded shirt.  
  
Glorfindel tossed the soiled garment back on the floor and lay on his side, his head propped on his hand.    
  
“Well now, it seems you have a bit of a problem, Counselor,” he said with a languorous half-smile, trailing his fingertips over Erestor’s stomach.    
  
Erestor held his breath, every slow swipe of Glorfindel’s fingers nearing, but never quite touching, the cause of the delicious ache in his groin.  
  
Glorfindel slid gracefully down the bed and wriggled between Erestor’s splayed thighs.  He dipped his head, his tongue darting out to lap lightly at the tip of Erestor’s erection.  He licked his lips as though savoring the taste, then gazed up over Erestor’s body, giving him a look that was nothing short of voracious.  “What I am going to do to you right now is no laughing matter.”  
  
It was a very, very long while before either of them went to sleep.  In that time, there was much loving, and contrary to Glorfindel’s warning, plenty of laughter.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Morning came, as it always did, and found Erestor face down in Glorfindel’s bed, the sheets in knots around his hips.  He knew even before opening his eyes that he was alone.  The chill from the other side of the bed told him that Glorfindel had gone already.  He frowned, a stab of regret wrenching his heart.  He’d hoped to awaken early enough to say goodbye, at least.  
  
He scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands and squinted into the thready autumn light to assess the time.  Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch, and for the first time ever since he had been in Elrond’s employ, he had missed the morning counselors’ briefing session.  Scandalous!  Ah well, he  _was_  the chief; what could they do?  Rank did have its privileges.  
  
Lazily, he stretched, and finally sat up.  Oh, his entire body ached, but it was a good sort of ache, the satisfying sort that comes with a hard day’s honest labor, or a long, blissful night of loving.  
  
A flash of color caught his eye, and he turned toward it curiously.  On Glorfindel’s nightstand were three objects that had not been there the night before.  The first was Erestor’s missing slipper, left behind in the library.  Inside the heel stood a small vase, filled with a spray of exquisite, thornless roses.  The sight was ludicrous and made him laugh, just as Glorfindel must have known it would.  
  
Propped against the slipper was a rigid piece of writing paper folded in half, his name etched across the front in Glorfindel’s distinctive, antiquated - but graceful – hand.  
  
Still smiling, he pushed himself up on one elbow to reach for the note, and settled back into Glorfindel’s pillows to read it.  
  
  
  
 _Erestor,_  
  
 _I sat at your side this morning watching you sleep, putting pen to paper in the kindling light of the sun and regretting with all my being that I would be gone before you woke.  Would that I could have kissed you from your slumber as the sun’s rays crested the mountains, and made love to you once again.  It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, leaving you in my bed, knowing you would wake alone and wondering what last night meant for our future._  
  
 _Last night I told you I loved you, but it was not until I rose this morning and prepared to leave you behind that I truly understood how much you mean to me._  
  
 _In the early morning light, I walked among the Lady’s flowerbeds in the atrium and agonized over which colors to choose.  The yellow, for the friendship and happiness you have graced me with?  Perhaps the coral, for desire?  I do desire you, Erestor, as often as you will have me._  
  
 _The red rose is simply to show you again that I love you._  
  
 _A white rose often denotes innocence, but I believe after last night, you understand this is not the meaning I intended!  No, this white rose stands for the purity of my love._  
  
 _In the lore of Gondolin, a white rose also had another meaning.  It meant honor, reverence, everlasting love, new beginnings... and marriage._  
  
 _Will you, Erestor?  Will you do me the honor of becoming my mate?_  
  
 _I will return as soon as I am able, and will pray every day that your answer will be yes.  Until then, my heart remains in your keeping._  
  
 _Yours eternally, if you will have me,_  
  
 _Glorfindel_  
  
  
  
Erestor smiled and burrowed back down into Glorfindel’s bedding, the note held close to his chest.  He drifted back off into dreams, his lips still curved in the shape of the answer that he knew Glorfindel, wherever he was, would hear.  
  
“ _Yes_.”  
  
  
*~*~*  _finis_  *~*~*


End file.
